KarMel Scholarship 2007
|
“B677” By Anonymous |
Description
of Submission: True
narrative account of lesbian artificial insemination process
175lbs
Brown hair; blue eyes
Clean genetic family history
Bachelor’s Degree in Art/Business
German & Hungarian
Lance Armstrong look-alike
27
Pursuing Master’s Degree
Good teeth and vision
6’1
Medium skin tone
No allergies
“This
specimen is one of the best I’ve seen,” the nurse proclaimed with a big smile
after studying him under a microscope.
“Good
specimen? You are talking about sperm. What does that even mean?” I
asked her incredulously.
“Highly
concentrated, 70% survival rate post thaw, and fantastic motility.
Really, you made an excellent choice.”
“Ok,
but still what does all of that mean?”
“Well,
we like to see at least 30% of the field filled with active sperm and your
specimen has more like 80%. That’s fantastic. We generally lose
about half of them when they thaw out, but we only lost 30% and the ones that
made it are really moving. Energetic and speedy little swimmers!
This is definitely one the best specimen I have seen.”
“Hmmm.
last month the bank was sold out of him. They told me he was a ‘top
seller’ and hard to keep in stock, so now I guess I know why!” I had to
laugh out loud. ‘This is insane,’ I thought to myself as I laid naked
from the waist down, feet up in the stirrups, staring at the liquid nitrogen
tank that was the most recent
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I
had tried to bond five minutes before while alone in the room with my little
thawing tube of ‘frozen pop’. Picking up the vial, I studied the little
milky ice cube in the bottom. “So you’re the daddy, huh?” I asked.
Needless to say, it didn’t respond. I set him back gently on the counter
and decided I needed his photo for the sake of posterity. He was strategically
positioned next to a container of Q-tips, so his size could be proportionately
understood. Instead of the saying the customary CHEESE! while firing off a
couple shots from my digital camera I said, “This is so one day, I can show my
baby who it’s daddy was.”
Now
with nothing to do but wait, panic began to set in yet again as the reality of
the situation took hold. All alone, I was about to be artificially
inseminated. Partnerless, I was doing everything in my power to get
pregnant (well, pretty much everything, lol!). I had waited so long
hoping to find the perfect partner to start a family with, wanting to make sure
I was financially stable and that my career was solid. I have
accomplished all but the partner. That hurts more than I have words for.
I wanted to create a family and not just a baby. I wanted to give
it two loving moms. But that part didn’t work. I thought Ann was
forever, but that ended 3 months ago. Regardless, I will be 40 this
summer and am losing an egg a month. When Ann and I split I realized it was now
or never. So here I am.
Soon
Mr. B677 would be inside going to town and there would be no reversing the
process. God willing, he would find his mark, and I would be on my way to
motherhood - filling that void that had existed in my soul for as long as I
could remember. But alone! Could I really do it? Could I
afford it?
Granted,
I had just bought us a
Surfing the net and reading donor profiles
had been easy and fun. No redheads or blonds. I wanted someone with
dark hair like me. Proportional height and weight. And good teeth…
a beautiful smile is huge, and I won’t be able to pay for braces. Oh
yeah, no hunters or gun enthusiasts either!
Finding an affordable doctor who was willing
to inseminate a lesbian and a single one at that was much harder, but I
managed. Three had had gotten a little ‘iffy’ when I said I was single
and then flat out refused when I told them I was homosexual. I was even
lucky enough to get an ethics and morality lecture from one of them!
I can’t believe there is still so much open prejudice in the world.
What gives some man or woman the right to decide whether or not I can bring a
child into this world? I could have lied about my sexuality, but this
needed to be 100% aboveboard. I refuse to pretend to be someone I’m not
while I do the most important thing in my life.
All the pre-insemination ultrasounds were
strange, but exciting. I was expecting the gooey gel on my tummy, but
found out they are done internally nowadays. Wow. A little shocker,
but childbearing, I think, causes modesty to fly out the window so what the
heck. I met my ovaries and uterus and watched my follicles grow. I
realized that there really is more than gray and white ‘snow’ in those
ultrasound pictures that they print out.
But
now… now the egg is on its way out, heading for my fallopian tubes and I am
about to add the missing half of the cocktail. What am I doing?
Glancing
around, I noticed the blue padded chair in the corner. That’ll work, I
thought, as I dropped to my knees in front of it, clasping my hands
together. I closed my eyes and said quietly aloud,
“God. I am
scared – terrified actually. I trust you though. You know my soul
and you know what is right for me. I have to turn this over to you.
I miss Ann and want her back so much, but I need to separate that from
this. She made it clear all four years that she wouldn’t raise another
child since she already had her three. I know we are apart for other
reasons, but I want to believe we still might find a way someday. Doing
this may mean that she will never come back, and that terrifies me. It is
still what I know I need to do though. I won’t be able to forgive myself
if I don’t try. I need to be a mom and love a child. Besides any
partner who truly loves me, will love my baby as well.
Right…? Oh no, does this choice mean I won’t ever have another
partner? Oh, God I am starting to freak out again. Please help
me. Guide this process and let your will be done. I trust you.”
Then
with a deep breath, I rose, wiped the tears from my eyes and picked up the
donor long profile I had been handed moments earlier by the nurse. I
hadn’t read it yet and didn’t really care what the paper contained. I
decided to purchase it from the sperm bank anyway along with B677, so I could
answer the questions that would inevitably come later. My lack of
interest was intentional. I had specifically chosen the anonymity and
facelessness of my sperm.
“My”
sperm… how many women can say that!
Anyway,
I didn’t want to run into ‘daddy’ at the grocery store or walking down the
street. Didn’t want him to have my name or face either. Didn’t want
him to fall in love with my precious angel and decide he needed to help
parent. Selfish, I guess, but my right! I do want my child to have
another parent, but another mom. And one that I am in love with, that
loves me and loves our baby.
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So
the nurse is back, praising me on my donor choice and explaining the actual
insemination process. Something about the speculum, a catheter and
elevating my hips for 10 minutes. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts
to make sense of any of it.
In
truth, it was a lot like a gynecological exam. Sterile.
Businesslike. Impersonal. After inserting the speculum, she located
my cervical opening and cleaned it. Then she inserted the catheter while
explaining that she couldn’t use KY jelly because sperm had trouble swimming
through it. Gross image! The lack of lubricant caused a little pain
as the 5 inch plastic catheter with the approximate circumference of a coffee
stirrer was pushed through my cervix and into my uterus. Next, she
injected the sperm up the catheter and into my womb. I expected to feel
something, but honestly other than mild discomfort, there was nothing. No
magic.
Then
she propped my hips up and told me to stay in that position and she would be
back to get me in ten minutes. Having nothing else to do, I decided to
read the long profile. I already knew the basics. B677 had brown
hair and blue eyes, was 6’1 175lbs, and of Austrian and Hungarian
descent. Most importantly though he had clean genes! Three
generations worth. I was careful to screen out heart problems (like my
father) and cancer (like my grandmother) while finalizing my selection.
Unfolding
the profile, the first thing I noticed was that it was handwritten. That
was immediately followed by the realization that his handwriting was
atrocious! It was kind of interesting to see it though. It made him
more real than he had been to me. He became a real person who held a pen,
not just the white stuff in that vial. Most of what I read was more
detailed information regarding his medical history. Apparently his dad
has a spinal problem, but it isn’t genetic. Both grandparents on his
mother’s side died by their early sixties of complications caused by
smoking. Again, not genetic. An aunt has been diagnosed with breast
cancer and that is a bit of a concern, but pretty normal for this day and
age. Other than that everyone is healthy and living well into old
age. I was pleased to see that every member of his immediate family has
blue eyes. Mine are hazel and I have always thought they looked like
muddy canal water. I think dark hair and blue eyes are so pretty (oops,
or handsome) together.
Toward
the end of the form, he was asked a few short answer questions. Despite
being given about ten lines to answer on, he only used up one to two per
question. I think that says something about him, but I am not sure
what.
The
first question asked his motivation for donating. He said he needed money
for school (not so noble, but truthful at least!) and that he wanted to help
people who wanted children (there we go, that’s better). When asked to
describe his character and personality he chose only three words – but three
good ones: gregarious, honest and sensitive. I love that answer,
especially the sensitive part. If I had met a man like that (who was also
handsome and intelligent, of course) maybe I wouldn’t be gay. Forget it,
who am I kidding? Lol! For hobbies and interests, he listed
painting, camping, architecture, traveling, photography and nature. Ok,
he’s outdoorsy, artistic and into learning new things. I like that.
Finally,
the one that just cracked me up… the message he wanted to send on to the
recipient of his semen. I quote, “It is creative and friendly and comes
from an inteligent background.” Ahhhh, were to start. IT is
creative and friendly. What is he talking about? Himself in third
person – kinda scary? Or the semen - creative and friendly sperm?
Does that mean all those millions of tiny guys are inside me swimming around and
socializing, clinking microscopic beer mugs while writing poetry?!?!
Sounds like I am hosting one hell of a party! But the best part is the inteligent
background. Come on already, there are some words you just shouldn’t
write if you can’t spell them! Fortunately, I know spelling is not
indicative of intelligence, so I am not worried about this. Amused, but
not worried!
Other
than that there were just a few miscellaneous extra facts. He is pursuing
his Master’s Degree in Architecture. Has traveled to Asia and
Africa. Apparently dabbled a little in pot smoking while in college, but
nothing habitual (Thank God!). Once got a woman pregnant, in real life,
but that didn’t result in childbirth. His specimen samples have been
fertile and have resulted in at least one successful artificial insemination.
In addition to German and Hungarian, he is Dutch and English. Had a
pierced lip and a pierced eyebrow at one point in his life. Has never had
any venereal diseases and occasionally participates in anal sex with his girlfriend.
UGH… what! I really didn’t need to know that. And neither will my
child!
All
in all, I feel that I made an excellent selection. Smart or at least
educated, sensitive, outdoorsy, athletic, outgoing, artistic, adventurous …
that will work. At least I hope they will get the job done because I am
eager as hell and have already spent about $2,000 dollars on the process –
progesterone and fertility testing, etc… The specimen alone cost $260 and
I had to buy three: two to try to bracket the ‘window’ when the egg was out and
then an extra because there was a chance we had still missed it. And of
course with each I had paid for an insemination procedure. The doctor
gave me a break on one, but it was still a lot.
Spermwise,
I have to admit I was very surprised by how little I got for my money.
Each specimen came in a tiny tube the size of a perfume sample vial and even
then was only about a quarter full – about the equivalent of a pencil
eraser! Granted it has been a very long time, but from what I remember
the average um… output was significantly greater in volume than that. I
thought I’d be getting the full shot for a couple hundred bucks not just a
sectioned off portion.
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The
nurse came back in and asked if I had any cramping or discomfort. I had
neither. She told me I had bled a little while the catheter was being
pushed through my cervix , gave me a panty liner, said I could go ahead and get
dressed and that I was free to go. She told me to call when I knew
something and then with a final wish good luck she was gone.
Driving
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Tomorrow
will be March 11th… D-day if you will. Blood or no blood.
I
just went the bathroom and noticed a pinkish discharge. Not a good
sign. My heart feels shattered. Yes, I have wavered between excited
and scared all month, but I was just sure it had worked. I guess we will
see.
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Damn
it. I am regular to a fault and sure enough woke up with my period.
I feel so broken. I don’t know how to feel or what to make of it. I
triple-dosed the sperm, three separate inseminations, and was sure I hit the
egg window. And it didn’t work? I had given it over to God and was
trusting that he would guide that the right thing happened. Does this
mean then that I am not supposed to have a child? That all these years my
gut instincts have been wrong? That I should stop planning the colors of
the nursery and looking at baby clothes? That the college fund I am
trying to create is in vain? It can’t be.
Maybe
it isn’t a sign. Everyone told me there was no guarantee it would work on
the first try, but I just knew I was different because it was meant to be…
because I wanted it so much… because it was so planned and premeditated…
because I had covered all my bases. Aw hell, who I am kidding? What
makes me more worthy of a child than couples who try for years with no success,
than all the infertile wanna-be moms in the world. I am nobody
special. Desire doesn’t equal babies not even coupled with 100% effort.
But…some
healthy, fertile women do need up to six tries before it works. Maybe I
will try again just one more time. Give it all I have and see if it is in
the stars for me.
Ugh,
the money though. I definitely can’t continue for six months. I
don’t even know where all the money needed for one more try would come
from. Honestly, I had spent most of my savings already. And I have
to go back to school this summer so that I make more money at work and can
provide a good life for the two of us. What a Catch 22. I need money to
go to school to make money to support the baby that I need money to
create! I will find a way. I have been tutoring 10 hours a week on
top of my regular job to help and that is ending, but I will find more
work. I can find a way. I won’t let money stop me.
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Alright
it is Thursday, March 29th.
I
am in the waiting process again. Won’t be able to take a pregnancy test
for thirteen more days. The 11th again. I was
inseminated only twice this time: last Friday and Saturday. Got the same
donor, B677, again. He really is a hot ticket. They were out of him
early in the month, but were releasing two samples from quarantine the day before
I needed them. I tried to order them in advance, but the bank’s policy
doesn’t allow that. Instead, I sat by my phone anxiously ready to dial at
8:00 am to insure no one got to him first. I didn’t have a second choice
picked out and felt oddly connected to this one after last month. I was
in that weird panic mode like when you are trying desperately to get the best
concert seats from Ticket Master! It worked though and I picked up the
big metal liquid nitrogen tank that held the precious cargo.
This
time the doctor did it instead of the nurse. I asked a lot of questions
because I really wanted to know why last month didn’t work. I
learned some amazing stuff… First of all, I am not getting ripped off
with my little, tiny tube of ‘liquid gold’. It is such a small amount
because the sperm is centrifuged away from most of the semen, thus creating a
ultra-concentrated shot. That’s supposed to increase the likelihood of
conception because they have less gunk to swim through.
As
for why it didn’t work… he had no concrete answer, but wasn’t daunted or
surprised. He told me that it takes probably a half million – half
million!- sperm to inseminate an egg. Yow. Of course, I wanted to
know how many were in each of the vials and it was 50 million apiece! So
at one point 100 million sperm were alive and kicking inside of me. That
is a huge number. I can’t even comprehend it.
Apparently
the egg has a coating around it that the sperm must break through. As
each one hits, it breaks through a teeny bit of the coating and makes a little
divot. Enough of them have to hit the same spot to finally get through to
the actual egg. No wonder it takes so many. Then the lucky one who is
bringing up the rear hits the mother lode. This may be the only time in
life when the guy who gets there last comes in first! The whole idea of
the hundreds of thousands of sperm battering the lonely egg sounds more like a
battle than the beauty of creation, but it is still amazing.
Somehow
last month I was under the impression that if just one little sperm
found the egg then conception would occur. They would bump into each
other and all would be done. Part of my frustration came from this
inaccurate perception. Believing I only needed one to make it, I couldn’t
believe it didn’t happen. I had three separate inseminations with plenty
of sperm and not even one of them could find the egg. I figured they had
to be stupid or damn lazy.
I
felt better understanding what actually needs to occur.
Also
this time, I got to look at them under a microscope and that was crazy.
There were tons of them in just one miniscule section of one tiny drop!
And the nurse was right, they are speedy little swimmers. They were
zipping around all over the place. I did make a good choice.
The
process was the same, yet somehow it felt a little different this time.
It seemed slower and like there was a better chance of success. I still
didn’t feel any magic happen, but did cramp up and feel weird inside.
Maybe that’s a good sign. I am sure my optimism is unfounded and I am
just being wishful. It is probably just based on hope or I because I
understood so much more this time. But who knows?
How
about
Dark hair
My mouth, my teeth
His skin color
December birthday
Smart
Outgoing
Sensitive
Beautiful…
And
I think I would like the nursery in sort of a baby blue and lavender. Well
suited for either gender. I have a couple of stuffed animals that Ann
gave me just waiting in there. As silly as it is, I will always have one
in the baby’s crib because I want her to be a part of its life everyday.
I still trust that one day she will come ‘
Ok,
I am jumping the gun. The sperm have all died and I don’t know if a half
million of them made it or not, so I need to relax. I hope it works this
month because the money is gone and though it would be easy to just pick up
some guy in a bar next month there are a million reasons why I won’t be doing
that. Why does it seem like everything is harder when you are gay.
I can’t wait for the day when our world is truly equal. For now though it
is what it is and conception is expensive.
So
my friends… I pray, wait, and wonder. Send good thoughts my way, and I
will let you know how it all turns out.
